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If you strive for the moon, maybe you'll get over the fence.

quote by James Wood
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon

moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon

poem by Raj Arumugam
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Mr. Moon: A Song of the Little People

O MOON, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
Down on the hilltop,
Down in the glen,
Out in the clearin',
To play with little men?
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?

O Mr. Moon,
Hurry up your stumps!
Don't you hear Bullfrog
Callin' to his wife,
And old black Cricket
A-wheezin' at his fife?
Hurry up your stumps,
And get on your pumps!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?

O Mr. Moon,
Hurry up along!
The reeds in the current
Are whisperin' slow;
The river's a-wimplin'
To and fro.
Hurry up along,
Or you'll miss the song!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?

O Mr. Moon,
We're all here!
Honey-bug, Thistledrift,
White-imp, Weird,
Wryface, Billiken,
Quidnunc, Queered;
We're all here,
And the coast is clear!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?

O Mr. Moon,
We're the little men!
Dewlap, Pussymouse,
Ferntip, Freak,
Drink-again, Shambler,
Talkytalk, Squeak;
Three times ten
Of us little men!

[...] Read more

poem by Bliss William Carman
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C Moon

C moon c moon c moon is she.
C moon c moon c moon to me.
How come no one older than me
Ever seems to understand the things I wanna to do?
It will be l7 and Id never get to heaven
If I filled my head with glue
Whats it all to you?
C moon, c moon, c moon is she
C moon, c moon, c moon to me
Bobby lived with patty
But they never told her daddy
What their love was all about
She could tell her lover that he thought but
She never was the type to let it out
Whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, oh c moon are we
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
How come no one older than me
Ever seems to understand the things I wanna to do?
It will be l7 and Id never get to heaven
If I filled my head with glue
Whats it all to you?
C moon, c moon, c moon is she
C moon, c moon, c moon to me
Bobby lived with patty
But they never told her daddy
What their love was all about
She could tell her lover that he thought but
She never wanted to let it out
Whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
Well whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
C moon are we

song performed by Paul McCartney
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Over There

The fence is long and high where we love
You cant see the other side where they live
Ive spied with my little eye
And Ive sighed with my little sigh
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
This is the fence that turns one into two
I want to break through but Im though if I do
Ive tried with my little try
And Ive cried with my little cry
But it seems that the gate holds the only clue
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive though again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
[brilliant solo from stan the man]
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}

song performed by Housemartins
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Moon, We Look to You.

Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.

Moon, despite the clarity of sky,
Metaphors of cloud that fluff with grey
Drift across your rounded face to spy;
Feeding back, there's awfully much to say.

Moon, you have a role to play up there –
We below must bear the earthly pain.
Duty bound, we shoulder sorrows fair –
You are free from our grotesque disdain.

Moon, we depend on you to shine
When the sun retires down below.
Add to that your grandest role divine:
Tidal Lord, to keep the seas in tow!

Moon, I hope you take to heart our plea –
Needless is the reason for your blue.
Beaming, you should give the night its glee:
We're despairing – so we look to you.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Roan Stallion

The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Sitting On A Fence

Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense in fighting
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense at all
Sitting on a fence is a man who strokes his twenty beards
Sitting on a fence is a man who drink real ale
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hed rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when hes thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks up to his guardian
Sitting on a fence is a man who swings from poll to poll
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees both sides of both sides
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks down on opinion
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hes rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when he is thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence

song performed by Housemartins
Added by Lucian Velea
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On the Boundary

I Love the ancient boundary-fence,
That mouldering chock-and-log.
When I go ride the boundary
I let the old horse jog
And take his pleasure in and out
Where the sandalwood grows dense,
And tender pines clasp hands across
The log that tops the fence.
’Tis pleasant on the boundary-fence,
These sultry summer days;
A mile away, outside the scrub,
The plain is all ablaze,
The sheep are panting on the camps,
The heat is so intense;
But here the shade is cool and sweet
Along the boundary-fence.

I love to loaf along the fence,
So does my collie dog,
He often finds a spotted cat
Hid in a hollow log;
He’s very near as old as I
And ought to have more sense,
I’ve hammered him so many times
Along the boundary-fence.

My mother says that boundary fence
Must surely be bewitched;
The old man says that through that fence
The neighbours are enriched;
It’s always down, and through the gaps
Our stock all get them hence,
I takes me half my time to watch
The doings of that fence.

But should you seek the reason
You won’t travel very far,
’Tis there a mile away among
The murmuring Belar:
The Jones’s block joins on to ours,
And so, in consequence,
It’s part of Polly’s work to ride
Their side the boundary-fence.

poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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How to Accompany The Moon Without Walking

Harsh, harsh, the maram grass on the salt dune,
seen by the cricket’s eye against the harbor moon,
anchor-frost and seaward, the lighthouse moon—

the bellbuoy-beating moon, the tiderip bronze
ringing above deep channels and old bones,
the hawsehole moon, where blood and money runs—

foremast and mainmast moon, up harbor still,
island and smokestack moon, and the wind-spill
falling from the sail-throat for the moon to fill—

up harbor, the old wharf moon, the capstan moon,
and round it the capstan bars, the heeling tune,
India Wharf, we'll bring you to Rio soon—

the shipyard moon, the grain-elevator moon,
derrick and gantry, and the turbine croon
sweet under seafoam as a bird in June—

red-warehouse moon, yacht-basin moon, where spars
tangle and telegraph with stays and stars—
hi ho, the queen of accordions and guitars—

ship-chandler moon, sea-boots and Wharf Street shine,
the ropewalk moon that spins in turpentine,
sail-loft invaded with a pour of silver twine—

and high! up spinning! skyscraper tipped on purple!
skyscraper moon, and high! for the stare of people—
skysign and belltower moon, moon for the steeple—

bells breaking bronze, gold, down, the scattered tinkle,
silver-bell moon, cornice and rooftop twinkle,
Christmas and graveyard moon, the tinsel sprinkle—

and dead, the stockyard moon, where blood drips down,
dead longhorn and mute snout; the barrelhouse moon,
moonmusic doubling, rigadoon, jigadoon—

so down, and down, who will be darkened soon,
red and green lights, the pallid airport moon—
ah! on the flying field, the captive balloon!

and cold; for the rim of night, the earth’s black arc,
swings up, blots out the stars, to the last spark;
while, underworld, the moon drowns dead and dark.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Moon Moon

When Moon Moon says
In case of me
To be a quite poet is possible
In addition, I have to be a cool.

When Moon Moon says
The days have to face
Good ways
To begin its first hour
To get its special power.

When Moon Moon says
I cannot hear anybody’s voice

When Moon Moon says
I can realize my age
To do something better
Not caring any matter.

When Moon Moon says
I can guess
She says something special
Those are needed for all.

When Moon Moon says
I have to face
Some case in any case.

When Moon Moon says
Sometimes, no case can be found
Without she says, like
“Hi! How are you
For the few
With your near dear
Are there any tears in your eyes?
When she says…”

Man can be silent
Ocean can be island
He can be brilliant
Even
You can be toys
When Moon Moon says.

[...] Read more

poem by Manir Hossain
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Moon poems

1
sometimes I wish
dear moon
sometimes I wish
the earth had five moons
and all so positioned
we can see
one every night and then in twos and in threes
never four (just so for mystery’s sake)
and then all five
all in perfect alignment once a year
just three nights so
and then we’ll all here on earth
go ga ga ga
or moo moo moo looooney
those nights and go crazy
and climb up trees and enact our ape ancestry …

and don’t you be jealous
I asked for four others;
I just want more of you –
just never seem to get enough of you

2
I see you moon
this cool autumn morning
you sing over the river and trees
and you are supported
by your belly-dance troupe of stars

3
ah poor moon
you're just hanging around
and through no fault of your own
you attract all these weirdos
these lunatics
and the vampires and the blood-sucking bats
and the sleep-walkers and murderers
and the flesh-eaters
(the moon made me do it!)
and the lunatics
and the werewolves
and even stock-pickers
and wild women who want to kill Orpheus

O poor moon

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Arumugam
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Sun-Up

(Shadows over a cradle…
fire-light craning….
A hand
throws something in the fire
and a smaller hand
runs into the flame and out again,
singed and empty….
Shadows
settling over a cradle…
two hands
and a fire.)

I

CELIA

Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry…. When you try to pick up cherry Celia's shriek sticks in you like a pin.

When God throws hailstones you cuddle in Celia's shawl and press your feet on her belly high up like a stool. When Celia makes umbrella of her hand. Rain falls through big pink spokes of her fingers. When wind blows Celia's gown up off her legs she runs under pillars of the bank— great round pillars of the bank have on white stockings too.

Celia says my father
will bring me a golden bowl.
When I think of my father
I cannot see him
for the big yellow bowl
like the moon with two handles
he carries in front of him.

Grandpa, grandpa…
(Light all about you…
ginger… pouring out of green jars…)
You don't believe he has gone away and left his great coat…
so you pretend… you see his face up in the ceiling.
When you clap your hands and cry, grandpa, grandpa, grandpa,
Celia crosses herself.

It isn't a dream…. It comes again and again…. You hear ivy crying on steeples the flames haven't caught yet and images screaming when they see red light on the lilies on the stained glass window of St. Joseph. The girl with the black eyes holds you tight, and you run… and run past the wild, wild towers… and trees in the gardens tugging at their feet and little frightened dolls shut up in the shops crying… and crying… because no one stops… you spin like a penny thrown out in the street. Then the man clutches her by the hair…. He always clutches her by the hair…. His eyes stick out like spears. You see her pulled-back face and her black, black eyes lit up by the glare…. Then everything goes out. Please God, don't let me dream any more of the girl with the black, black eyes.

Celia's shadow rocks and rocks… and mama's eyes stare out of the pillow as though she had gone away and the night had come in her place as it comes in empty rooms… you can't bear it— the night threshing about and lashing its tail on its sides as bold as a wolf that isn't afraid— and you scream at her face, that is white as a stone on a grave and pull it around to the light, till the night draws backward… the night that walks alone and goes away without end. Mama says, I am cold, Betty, and shivers. Celia tucks the quilt about her feet, but I run for my little red cloak because red is hot like fire.

I wish Celia
could see the sea climb up on the sky
and slide off again…

[...] Read more

poem by Lola Ridge
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Dont Fence Me In

Wildcat kelley, lookin mighty pale,
Was standin by the sherrifs side
And when the sherrif said Im sendin you to jail,
Wildcat raised his head and cried
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above,
Dont fence me in.
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love,
Dont fence me in.
Let me be by myself in the evenin breeze,
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees,
Send me off forever but I ask you please,
Dont fence me in.
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies.
On my cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
I cant look at hobbles and I cant stand fences
Dont fence me in.
Wildcat kelley, back again in town,
Was standin by his sweethearts side,
And when his sweetheart said come on lets settle down,
Wildcat raised his head and cried
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies,
Dont fence me in.
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love,
Dont fence me in.
Let me be by myself in the evenin breeze
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please,
Dont fence me in
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
I cant look at hobbles and I cant stand fences
Dont..... fence me in.
###########
Transcription unknown; key correction by john mair.
Edited by cool hand luke

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Moon I possessed

The moon in the sky was obliterated by a cluster of ashen Grey clouds,
While the moon standing before me; was as immaculate as freshly extracted milk.

The moon in the sky possessed disdainful blotches of dispersed powder,
While the moon standing abreast my heart; was bereft of even a solitary spot
of dirt on its body.

The moon in the sky was often invaded by a fleet of alien spaceships,
While the moon I held in close proximity; was obsessively mine.

The moon in the sky bestowed its tenacious radiance only in nocturnal hours
of the night,
While the moon caressing my lips; shone brilliantly all sweltering day; as well
as in perpetual dark.

The moon in the sky was often overshadowed by flaming rays of the sun,
While the moon lying down on my toes; stood prominently as the lone survivor
amidst infinite contestants of beauty.

The moon in the sky offered partial relief from the monotonous heat prevailing
in the air,
While the moon smiling parallel to my eyes; pacified all turbulence that arose
in my body.

The moon in the sky changed its shape with the unleashing hour,
While the moon whispering in my intricate ear; harbored the same
silhouette for marathon numbers of years.

The moon in the sky remained impassive as an obdurate stone; even when I
cried,
While the moon nestling beside me in the languid grass; wiped my tears with
sumptuous empathy.

The moon in the sky segregated its love; amongst millions of people residing
on the globe,
While the moon dwelling with me in my house; loved me as much as it feared to
abruptly die.

The moon in the sky didn’t breathe a fraction of air,
While the moon staring at me in due adulation for countless hours; breathed
heavily down my neck.

And did you; know that the moon in the sky was as intangible as the
withered leaf;
While the moon I possessed in entirety in my perception; was living; being the most beautiful girl on this earth.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Me And The Night Moon

since i was achild i was looking for the sky and see the moon in the night and asking my self what is this?
and when i was in my youth and my heart started to be mature i was asking why lovers always speak about the moon?
but suddenly i met her
suddenly i loved her
and suddenly i forgot sleeping
and suddenly i got why the lovers look to the sky and look to the moon
but the new something in my story that iam speaking to the sky moon
like now iam waitting him ooooooh its here
me: -goodevening my friend
the moon: -good evening mr lover
me: -i miss you too much
the moon: -me two my friend
me: -why you came too late tonight?
the moon: - i was there caring about your woman
me: -oooooooooh really you saw her?
the moon: -sure i know that you are waitting me to bring news
me: - very good my moon then tell me haw is she?
the moom: - she is sad beacuse you are far away
me: - oooooooh my babe then what else?
the moon: - her eyes is wandering looking for you
me: - god ill cry my little bird is sad now
the moon: -i can tell her any message if you want it
me: - really my friend i need you help
the moon: - its ok what do you want to tell her?
me: - tell her that he cant sleep he is scared to sleep and you are there
alone tell her that i wish to touch her hair now and talk to her till the morning and ill love her till ill die
the moon: - ooooooooh you love her?
me: -as much as u can immagine more than any thing and more than my life
the moon: - ok ok my friend i told her and she said! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
me: - what what what what? what she said pleaze pleaze tell me
the moon: - she said i was waitting you mr moon to bring me this message to know that my sweet heart is thinking about me now i can sleep with more comfort please kiss him for me
me: - wow she is kissing me?
the moon: - she is giving you melions and melions of kisses but oooooooooh
me: - what is the matter my friend?
the moon; - another couples now waiiting me to transfere their messages
me: - so you are planning to leave me?
the moon: - i have to ill see ypu tomorrow as i help you iam helping also another lovers
me: - ok mr moon ill waite for you tomorrow with anew messages
the moon: - ok my friend see you soooooooon
me: - see you sooon my good friend and take care about my sweet heart be like an angel around her

poem by Ayman Ghamry
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Miscalculations

nine plates of my total trust
nine plates of my eternal love
all to you i'll serve forever
to my moon, my goddess, my dove
my voice is lost in endless night
you, the moon, spark my fight
the battle within to tell you all
theirs our winning, mine will fall
to the floor to lay in dirt
my secrets within excite the hurt
secrets screaming to get out
all to you, i have no doubt
you are the moon, way out there
i want you here, it's just not fair

a beacon of trust i hope you'll give
for me to see so i can live
when were apart my heart is strained
when i'm with you i feel no pain
for all you deserve, i am inadequate
i tell my heart 'do not fret
she will realize how much we care'
'she never will, it's just not fair'

you strike my heart's most trusting strings
it longs to tell you all those things
that keep me up late at night
those things that cause the awful fright
'all these things she want not know'
'you'll never know 'less you ask her so'
tumbling in this endless plight
heart and soul in eternal fight
'we love her so, we both know that'
'but an eyelash she has yet to bat
to acknowledge that she even cares'
but i love that moon, it's just not fair

the moon, the moon, my only guiding light
you must look down on me with those eyes so bright
your servant i will always be
i wish i knew how you felt for me
soon the sun to push you away
i’ll hate the sun, there’s no other way
it separates me from your goddess presence
it hurts so much, am i doing penance?
i know for me you just can’t care
i hate the sun, it’s just not fair

the moon’s the only one for me
o! the moon, if she could only see

[...] Read more

poem by Sebastien St. Fellmore
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Peter Bell, A Tale

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!

Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.

Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Don't You Ever Never Moon Me

If we are to be together,
Through the ups and downs...
And stormy weather.
Don't you ever...
Never EVER
Don't you ever never ever ever,
Moon me!

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

If we ever get together,
Like 'forever' be together.
Don't you ever never in your head forget.
Don't you never...
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

If we ever get together,
Like 'forever' be together.
Don't you ever never in your head forget.
Don't you never...
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,
Moon me.

Don't you ever...
Never,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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